Page 83 of Play Me

“And I guess, after, we’re still discussing it.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong, Greg.”

“I know, Cadence, if it was up to me, this wouldn’t be a thing, and you’d be in your classroom where you belong, but...it’s not just me.”

“I understand.”

“I’m doing everything I can, OK?”

“I know, I appreciate it,”

“Hey, take the week off to go somewhere, do something fun.” He suggests.

“That’s what got me in this position in the first place.” I say, without a bit of irony.

I hear him sigh, I know he’s in a hard place and I don’t want to make it worse for him. “Take care, I’ll talk to you soon.”

Sarah’s still there when I hang up the phone.

And she’s there when the tears come again.

“Oh, honey,” she comes around and wraps her arm around my shoulders. “It’s not fair. It’s not fair. But we’re going to get through this. We have before, remember?”

I do remember. I remember being in this exact same position seven years ago.

And the wounds that I thought had long been scarred over, feel like they’ve been ripped open again.

SEBASTIAN

“Sebastian!” I hear my name yelled and I jerk into consciousness.

“Ahh, what?!” I snap.

“Geez, man, get your head out of the clouds. Didn’t you hear us calling you?” Jez snaps back, irritated.

“No, I’ve blocked out your voices for the sake of my own sanity!”

“Dude. Chill.” Brad intervenes, in his peacemaking way.

“Sorry, guys, um, was just daydreaming. What’s up?”

“We were discussing the set list for next week. You up for it?”

“Yeah, er, whatever, you guys decide. Just let me know.”

I push off my seat and wander over to the couch, letting my head fall back. It’s pounding so hard, I can barely think. I’ve barely slept in days, and the endless rotation of vodka, then coffee and Red Bull hasn’t been the helpful cocktail I’d hoped it would be.

Being cooped up in the hotel probably hasn’t helped either.

Not that I know the difference.

I descended into my best impression of a zombie the moment Cadence walked out the door.

My heart twists just at the memory. Her face as she accused me of not caring about her, of not trusting her, of not protecting her.

And she was right. I hadn’t protected her.

I’d been blindsided. Those pictures had shocked me just as much as her. And now, when I should be doing everything I can to protect her from the aftermath, it’s too late, she won’t let me.